


The Adventures of Sir John the Gimpy and Sherlock the Dragon's Ghost

by alexiel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexiel/pseuds/alexiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sir John the Gimpy slays Sherlock the Dragon, he doesn't expect the Dragon to come back and haunt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventures of Sir John the Gimpy and Sherlock the Dragon's Ghost

Once upon a time in land far, far away there lived a Dragon named Sherlock. Because he stood twenty feet high, possessed an abnormally long wingspan, and breathed fire, the denizens of that fair land feared the dragon greatly. Sherlock, being Sherlock, would have pointed out to said denizens that they were morons for fearing him since he was whippet thin and half-starved due in no small part to his refusal to eat their livestock (gross), or even (worse) their children. But the stupid pillocks never stood still long enough for him to tell them this.

He did, however, burn down the occasional castle and barbeque a king or two.

"It's because I'm bored," Explained Sherlock the Dragon to Sir John the Gimpy when the knight came to slay him.

"Boredom is not an excuse for burning castles!" Replied the overly-noble Sir John.

"But the man who ruled that castle levied unfair taxes, liked to invoke prima nocte, and did very little actual ruling. He wasn't a very nice man and you ought to be _thanking_ me for killing him!"

To his surprise, Sir John (who had heard a rumor or two about said king before he became dragon-barbeque) found that he agreed. Unfortunately, by that point in time, he had already activated the magical object of magical-ness that would kill Sherlock.

"Sorry."

*

The next morning, Sir John rose from his bed at the inn of a village not far from the Dragon's cave to find said inn abandoned. Outside, the villagers ran too and fro screaming at the top of their lungs. John was able to see them because the body of the giant Dragon floating outside his window was only semi-opaque.

"But you're dead." Sir John said to the only semi-opaque Dragon.

"Yes, I'd noticed that." Sherlock said with an expressive roll of its eyes, "I was there when you killed me."

"But dead Dragons don't come back."

"Yes, and Knights aren't supposed to be Gimpy - that limp is psychosomatic by the way - but you don't see me pointing out your shortcomings now do you?"

If John was left speechless, it was only because the first thing Sherlock had said to him the day before was, "You? How did you manage to get in here? You're a knight. With a limp. Knights aren't gimpy. Well, you clearly are but..." and he probably said a few other things too but John had been busy fiddling with the Magical-Dragon-Killing-Device that he now greatly regretted using.

"So... if you're back... why am I still alive?"

To John's surprise the Dragon stuck its head and upper body through the window and wall of the inn and into Sir John's room. "Well, I would kill you but I haven't quite figured out how to interact with solid objects yet."

Sir John blanched. "Oh."

"Quite." The Dragon agreed, "So I've decided to haunt you instead."

*

Haunting John was apparently an incredibly boring task.

"Bored." The Dragon complained whilst John settled his bill with the innkeeper. ("Oh, tha-tha-that won't b-b-be-be necessary sir Knight. J-ju-ju-just uh... take your Dragon with you? Please? _Please?_ " Possibly, the innkeeper had ended the sentence on a squeak.)

"Bored." The Dragon had complained whilst John saddled his horse. (John's horse, Mike, hadn't been impressed. He had, however, spit at and then through Sherlock. Who had actually found that semi-interesting.)

"Bored." The Dragon had complained for the first five days of their long ride to the nearest castle-with-a-sorcerer-in-house. ("Castle New Scotland you mean? Lestrade's not a bad king actually. General Donovan's a bit of a moron and his heir, Dimmock or something, is a bit Dim. But Lestrade himself isn't bad. He likes to complain about his enemies in my presence. I occasionally go and eat them for him. If they're interesting. You won't get much help from Anderson though. Terribly dull. And he's an inept sorcerer too.")

"Bored." The Dragon complained for what must have been the one hundred and seventy second time that week and, finally, John had had enough.

"GO HAUNT SOMEONE ELSE IF YOU'RE SO BLOODY BORED THEN!" He roared. "I NEED TO EAT AND I CAN'T DO THAT WHEN YOU'RE NATTERING ON ABOUT BEING BORED AND SCARING AWAY ALL THE GAME."

The Dragon, or rather the Ghost of the Dragon, looked almost hurt by that. To John's great surprise, he actually flew off.

John had a rabbit for dinner that night.

And he didn't at all miss having Sherlock babble on about the most random ("Did you know that wyverns aren't actually the result of some depraved Dragon mating with a giant snake?") and inane ("I don't understand why so many of you humans insist on using swords. Surely you can see that a projectile weapon, one with a little velocity behind it, would do more actual damage.") things as he drifted off to sleep.

Sherlock didn't re-appear the next morning or all the next day.

When John arrived in the town surrounding Castle New Scotland the evening after that, (and why he’d continued onto the castle after ridding himself of his own dragon problem John didn’t know,) he was greeted at the gates by a giant of a man. One who looked as if he might've been part troll.

"Ah," The man said the second John dismounted and began his walk into the castle, "you must be Sir John!"

He clapped one giant hand over John's shoulder, then slung what looked like a dead goat across John's saddle and onto Mike's back. "Sherlock asked me to give that to you."

"Sherlock?" John asked, perking up at the mention of the Dragon's name. "You know him. Knew him I mean?"

"Aye," The man nodded, "Kept a mob from lynching me a few years back." He showed John the burn scars on his upper arm, "charred me up a bit in the process but, you know, saved me life so I ain't complaining."

"Right."

"He'll be at Mrs. Hudson's on Baker St. if you're looking for him." The man pointed John in the general direction and said "And I'm Angelo, the town butcher. Come by if you're ever 'ungry." before disappearing into the dark of the night.

It would be polite, John thought, to go see Sherlock at Baker St. If only to return the goat.

*

"You're came!" Sherlock said somewhat exuberantly when John finally arrived at the row-house on Baker St that was owned by Mrs. Hudson. "I mean, of course you came – but you came too late to go straight to the castle, and the town inns are all full – so you’ll have to stay here!"

John smiled awkwardly at the Ghost. It was incredibly unnerving talking to someone when their head was on one side of a closed door and their body on the other.

"I uh..." he said, rubbing a hand in his hair, "I wanted to apologize for snapping at you the other night. It was uh... rude." Thankfully, Sherlock did not say Yes, it was. "Also," John added, and he had decided this far earlier in the day, "I think I've um, grown rather uh, used to you haunting me. So I've decided not to have you exorcised."

"Have you really?"

"Um... yes?"

Sherlock's ghost grinned widely. Which was actually rather frightening given that he was a dragon.

"Excellent! Well, I mean, Anderson would've failed miserably at it if he'd tried - but I appreciate the gesture. Now come inside. I saw Lestrade this morning and he has a quest for you. Well, me - but I say you because I'm dead and it's the most _fascinating thing_." Sherlock disappeared into the row-house and John found himself grinning foolishly as he waited for the Dragon to remember and bring someone corporeal, presumably Mrs Hudson, to come and open it for him.

John suspected that there were many mad adventures waiting inside.

\- THE END


End file.
